Late for Your Life
by harrysfangrrl
Summary: Crossover wTeen Titans. SLASH. Robin and Wally appeared in the Great Hall of Hogwarts without knowing why, then met a ghost who wasn't a ghost and both fell in love with her. And she loved them, but could only be with them if they loved each other, too.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: if i owned them thed be tied up in my bed-- 2gether, of course. so if i do, i'm not admitting it.

Thanx to th livejournal community DIAFF cuz wihout u i wud nevr have known about fanfic at allllll!111

Thanx guys!  
Myrtle

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**Late for Your Life  
**

**Chapter One  
Arrival **

The two boys stared at each other, and then the shorter one stalked forward, stopping inches before the other and glaring up at him. "What did you do?" he demanded, biting each word off furiously.

"Me? I didn't do anything! I'm _fast_, Robin, I don't teleport! That's Raven's thing!"

"Then how did we get here?"

"You're the logical one-- you figure it out. To me it felt like magic."

Robin snorted.

"Excuse me."

Both boys spun to face the speaker, Robin dropping into a fighting crouch, the other turning so fast it was like he was facing one way then the other without actually moving. What they found was an elderly man with a long white beard and blue robes with little stars and planets moving around on it. Robin did a double-take. Yeah. They were moving, all right.

The old man lifted his brows and said mildly, "Might I ask what you're doing here and how you came to be here?"

They glanced at each other and then back at him. Robin stood up a bit straighter. "We're not exactly sure, sir. We were in a fight, and then-- then we were here."

"In a fight?" the man repeated, sounding merely curious, rather than disapproving. "And then you were here," he murmured. "And judging by your accents you are, perhaps, American?"

He had, of course, noticed the English accent. But there were foreigners all over California, and it hadn't seemed particularly strange. Certainly not more so than the rest. But that question put a new light on the subject. "Are you suggesting that we aren't in America now?"

The man looked mildly surprised. "I don't know that I would go so far as to say I had been suggesting it. But it is certainly true. But I am being rude. My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the school you are presently in. Which, as it happens, is in Scottland. It tends to be a bit difficult to pinpoint precisely where."

Robin hesitated, then glared at Wally as the other boy muttered, "I always have the weirdest dreams."

"This isn't a dream," he snapped. "Or if it is, it's mine."

Wally turned to glare back. "Why should it be _your _ dream? I think it works perfectly well as mine. Is this another leader thing? Because--"

"If I might settle the argument, you aren't in a dream at all. I tend to know these things," Dumbledore added as the two turned back to him. "I wonder if you might be willing to share your names?"

Robin blinked. "I'm Robin," he finally admitted. "This is Kid Flash."

"What intriguing names," he said. "And-- I take it you are not certain as to how you arrived here."

He hesitated a moment, then said, "No."

"Do you know?" the other boy asked, flashing the headmaster an engaging smile. "'Cause we probably ought to get back. Not that you don't have a cool place-- I especially like what you've done with the ceiling--"

Robin glanced up, taking in something that he had noticed right off but avoided thinking about because it was just too weird. It was like the ceiling was painted with an image of the sky. Except that the clouds were moving. He wasn't aware of any technology that would let a screen that size and that realistic to be built.

"--but you know how it is. Crimes to fight and miles to go. Lots of miles, actually, if we're really in Scotland."

The headmaster smiled. "Of course! I understand completely."

"You can get us back?" Robin asked, a bit surprised, but hopeful.

The man's smile faded. "That, I fear, is a little more difficult. Due to recent events, international travel has become a bit more strictly regulated, and it might prove ... challenging to get you home."

Robin felt a flare of panic and suppressed the weakness immediately. "I might be able to pull some strings," he said, pulling out his communicator. It was dead. Completely dead.

"I'm afraid technology tends to have a difficult time here," Dumbledore said apologetically. "It's the fault of the magic."

"Magic," Robin repeated, keeping all emotion out of his voice as he wondered how they were doing it-- and why. It seemed a bit elaborate for a practical joke, and he didn't think any of them could actually pull this off. Not without him being alerted by them spending large sums of money. But the suggestion that this was all magic was patently absurd.

"Albus, what--"

They turned to face the new speaker and found a tall thin man with greasy black hair and the same type of clothes as the old man, although his were ascetically black. He glared down a rather prominent nose at them. "Who are they? And why are they in the Great Hall at midnight in such ridiculous garments?"

"You're one to talk!" Wally shot back. "At least we aren't in dresses."

The headmaster smiled genially, a twinkle in his eye. "Indeed, I rather like them. They were clearly chosen with a fine eye for color."

Robin avoided looking down at the uniform he'd chosen when _far _ younger and that had become his trademark before he'd realized how ridiculous it was.

"You would, of course," the other man drawled. "And for the parts of my questions that I actually _wanted _ answers to?"

"Oh, of course! Allow me to introduce you to Robin and Kid Flash," Professor Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Robin, Kid Flash, this is Professor Snape."

"Kid Flash," Snape repeated doubtfully.

Wally grinned up at him, and then suddenly was behind him. "Fastest boy alive," he stated.

At the sudden relocation, both men had drawn sticks from what seemed to be their sleeves. Dumbledore put his away, Snape kept his trained on Wally, who looked at it curiously. "Robin?"

"Yeah?"

"How come he's pointing a stick at me?"

Robin sighed, wondering if it was, after all, Wally's dream and he'd somehow gotten sucked into it. He was sure that his own mind, even his subconscious, would never lower itself to such ridiculous drivel. "I have no idea."

Snape flashed a look at the old man. "They're not part of the Wizarding World?"

"It seems not," Albus agreed genially.

"Wizarding World," Robin stated, keeping emotion out of his voice.

"Like magic?" Wally asked excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

The headmaster smiled.

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so read and review and stuff!11!  



	2. Sorting

Chapter 2-- Sorting!

Robin clenched his jaw as he moved down the steps towards the Great Hall. The robes swishing around his legs were maddeningly confining, catching on his legs with each step he took. But the alternative was worse, he admitted with a shudder. They had insisted on robes, and if he did not take the modern student's robes he could have a set from an older time-- which would, indeed, mean that his legs wouldn't be bound-- but the bizarrely wide-shouldered garment that ended in a stiff wave out just under his hips and had long tight sleeves would have made him look utterly ridiculous. Even more so than this. Wally had taken it, cheerfully, delighted as always to make a spectacle of himself, and somehow managed not to make it look entirely wrong. Robin thought maybe it was just that Wally was so totally confident that nobody could fail to like him that he could carry off just about anything.

He stalked into the Great Hall, Wally bouncing at his side like an eager puppy, and let his eyes move over the students, all between eleven and eighteen, according to the headmaster, all dressed in the same black robes, though each had a patch on his chest, marking which house they were to be a part of. The whole concept was ridiculous, though it was becoming harder and harder to refute the idea that this was, somehow, reality. It was lasting too long to be a dream, and the details were too consistent to be somehow made up. He was actually in a school in Britain that taught magic. Unable to go home because some evil wizard was at war with them and international travel was curtailed. And being told that neither he nor Wally had enough magic that they would have received letters to attend a magical school themselves, they did both have a thread of talent and could -- and would -- therefore join the students until something more could be worked out.

So he was to be a student in a subject he had been told straight off he would never excel at -- would likely never be able to become ever competent at -- in uncomfortable, bizarre-looking clothing, in a culture that should not, in a logical world, actually exist, with the single member of his team most likely to aggravate him to an early grave. Robin was not happy. The stares of several hundred robed magic students did nothing to improve his mood. Although most of them were actually staring at Wally-- and, more specifically, his legs. He rolled his eyes as he saw one boy lick his lips and Wally wink at him, loving the attention.

"Ah, you're here," the headmaster said cheerfully, rising. "Attention please, everyone!" He waited for the silence which gradually came, and said, "Excellent! As you have seen, we have a pair of students joining us for a time. Please welcome Robin Milner and Kid Gliston."

Robin gritted his teeth through the pause, his loss of the argument over the necessity of last names smarting. And those particular names seemed so obviously fake, since only the headmaster's sick sense of humor would have chosen them.

"They will be joining you as sixth years, but have not had the advantage of a magical education, so may need some assistance in getting up to speed."

Wally snickered at the word choice, and Robin shot him a stern look.

"And since they have not, of course, been sorted, this seems the ideal time to do so. Professor McGonagall, if you will?"

The tall, stern-looking lady, whom they had met last night stepped forward, set a stool down in the center of the floor, a battered hat atop it, and called out, "Robin Milner, approach."

He stepped forward, refusing to show any nervousness, and tripped on his long robes. A titter moved through the room, though he caught himself before falling, and he felt his face warm with embarrassment.

"Please sit on the stool and put on the hat, Mr. Milner."

Reluctantly he obeyed, feeling ridiculous as he perched on the stool and put the stupid hat on.

"Not so stupid, thank you," an indignant voice whispered directly into his ear. Both ears, actually, and Robin stiffened. "Now let's just have a look to see where you ought to go, shall we?"

"I _ought_ to go _home_," he snapped back, keeping his tone quiet and his lips still to prevent himself from looking more a fool than he already did.

A chuckle answered him. "Feeling a mite homesick? Don't worry-- many feel the same way when they arrive."

A muscle in Robin's cheek jumped. "I am _not_ homesick. I'm simply needed at home and don't have time for this insanity."

"Yes, well, since you're stuck here, let's see _exactly_ where you'll be stuck, shall we?" the hat murmured, and Robin blinked as memories from his life started passing behind his eyes.

"Get out of my mind," he ordered, biting each word furiously short.

"I can't if I'm to do my job," the hat replied. "Relax, do. No harm will come to you."

Robin's nostril's flared, he clenched his jaw, closed his eyes to concentrate, and thought with as much focus and detail as he could about explosions, the light blinding, the sound deafening, the blast a sickening force against the body, the acrid smoke burning the nose and mouth. "Merlin!" the hat yelped, actually audibly, judging by the sudden silence beyond as everyone fell completely silent. "Erm, excuse me," it added, then continued at its more common whisper, tone indignant, "That was _completely_ uncalled for!"

"I told you to get out of my mind," he whispered back smugly.

"And _I_ told _you_ that I have a job to do," the hat said.

"Ask me questions and I'll answer-- but stay the _hell_ out of my mind!"

"Yes, well. I don't think questions shall be necessary. I've seen -- and experienced, I might add -- quite enough to know where you'll best fit. _Gryffindor!_" it shouted at the top of its nonexistent lungs, leaving Robin's ears ringing at the sudden sound.

He glared at the hat as he took it off, and it glared back, which was disconcerting in and of itself. Turning his glare to the headmaster, he waited.

Expression still vague and good-natured, blue eyes still sparkling demonically, the headmaster grinned. "Always good to keep the hat on its brim, as it were. Off to the Gryffindor table, Mr. Milner." He waved an arm towards a long table filled with people with red and gold badges, and Robin obediently went towards them and sat in an empty seat, turning to glare balefully at the hat, which Wally was now putting on.

A delighted smile immediately lit Wally's face. "Awesome!" he said aloud, apparently completely oblivious to his audience.

He laughed. "Well, that's Robin for you. No, no, I wouldn't do that. In fact-- memories? Oh cool! There's this one I've been trying to remember more clearly, could you...?" His grin widened at the apparent acquiescence. "Okay, it was maybe a year ago, summer night, me and this girl, don't remember her name but she had this amazing black hair and her _legs_--" He broke off. "That! Yeah, that's totally the one!" He paused. "Wow, she's even more gorgeous than I remembered. Huh? Oh-- well she was all clingy and stuff. Made me crazy, and the body just wasn't worth the aggravation. Yeah. Oh I know!"

"Excuse me," the headmaster interrupted the one-sided conversation. "I wonder if we might move on to the Sorting?"

"Oh, sorry!" Wally said. "So tell me about the houses again?" A long pause, then he said, "Well _that's_ easy."

"Gryffindor!" the hat called out, much less loudly this time.

"Duh," Wally said cheerfully. "I mean, come on-- red and gold, anyone?" He crossed his red-clad legs, kicking one bright yellow boot lightly, and made no sign of leaving the stool. "Ooh! I have another one. Okay, this one was blonde, with the most amazing body--"

McGonagall turned a shocked gaze to the headmaster, who cleared his throat. "Mr. Gliston, I'm very much afraid you'll have to return the hat to Professor McGonagall now."

He sighed. "Yeah okay. Oh. My. God. That's her. Isn't she-- Yeah, I mean those t--"

He blinked as the hat was snatched off his head and turned his innocent gaze to the deputy headmistress.

"That is quite enough Mr. Gliston," she said tartly.

He shrugged and rose from the stool. "Fine, fine. We can finish later, huh, Hat?"

"Looking forward to it," the hat called back cheerfully as it was borne away under McGonagall's arm. Wally grinned and moved to the Gryffindor table, dropping into the seat next to Robin and grinning around at everyone. "Hey, guys! So, yeah, You can call me Kid Flash if you want. Or Flash. Or Kid. Gliston-- not so much. And I'm betting Robin, where, hasn't introduced himself yet."

Robin shot him a glare.

"What did you do to the hat?" a girl across the table was the first to break the silence, her face framed by bushy brown hair and her eyes intent.

Robin shrugged.

"I've never heard of it calling out like that before, and I think I would have. It's never been mentioned in Hogwarts--"

"A History," the two boys flanking her chimed in, rolling their eyes. "Give it a rest, Hermione," one of them, a lanky redhead, finished. "I'm Ron Weasley," he added. "These here are my mates, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."

Robin nodded a terse greeting, and Wally took over the conversation, demanding to know everything about the school, magic, them, the house, the point system, the hat, the professors-- everything, actually.


	3. Potions

Robin stared moodily down at his desk, ignoring the people around him. Two _weeks_ he'd been stuck here, and with no sign that they were going to escape any time soon. Two weeks of learning to move with loose fabric draped about him, learning to avoid those damned wands when they were pointed at him, of ignoring the people who stared at his mask, the students who tried to take it off him by force, and the professors who tried to convince him. Two weeks of learning to hate magic and everyone who practiced it. Wally, of course, was delighted. He was fascinated with every tiny magic trick he learned to do and never seemed to mind that the eleven-year-olds could do it faster and better and hold it longer. Robin hated a lot of things, but there were few things he despised more than being forced to do things -- and do them publicly -- that he was poor at.

He slouched in time for a mild hex to slip by his head, and didn't bother to turn a glare on whoever had sent it his way. It didn't matter who it was. They all did it. Some admitting that their goal was to cause him pain or humiliation, others claiming to be trying to cheer him up. Because having his hair turn strange colors or having bubbles come out from his mouth whenever he spoke was _so_ likely to make him a happy person. Pricks. Mostly they didn't hit him these days-- he had good instincts and reflexes, and dodging was a perfectly good way to escape most attacks. And he was used to fighting people with powers he didn't have. Just not to competing them with those powers.

He didn't look up as Snape swept into the room, and he raised his level of vigilance slightly. There were fewer 'pranks' when the professor was in the room, but they tended to be subtler, as well. He listened to the professor's terse instructions, and went to gather ingredients, leaving Wally to get equipment. Returning, he set Wally to work grinding thestral hooves, since it was a task that required absolutely no patience or finesse and a fair amount of time, and got to work preparing the rest himself, simmering the potion. Just as he was getting ready to request the ground hoof from Wally, his hand snapped out and caught a trio of small red berries that had snuck up the side of the cauldron opposite him and had been about to threw themselves in.

He hissed in pain as the thin skin of one of the berries tore and the acidic juice burned into his hand. He heard a smothered laugh from across the room, and recognized it as Malfoy. Wally glanced at him, and he muttered, "Put in the ground hoof and stir in a figure eight. I'll be right back."

The red-head grinned, nodded, and swept the hoof into the cauldron, starting to stir. Robin watched for a moment to be sure he wasn't going to completely destroy it, and then went to the back of the room, dropped the berries into the bin that disposed of contaminated ingredients, and washed the rest of the juice off his hand, not bothering to look at the blisters already forming on the palm and underside of his fingers. He went back and found Wally's hand moving too quickly and took over the stirring again, slowing the strokes and soothing the bright orange it had begun to turn back into yellow. They finished without further incident, and Robin took the cauldron off the heat and waited for the professor to test it.

"What happened earlier?" Wally asked, having somehow managed to keep his silence until then. Robin had finally beaten into his head that if he interrupted while he was focusing on classwork he could expect a poor response.

Robin shrugged, most of his attention still on watching for further attempts to sabotage their potion. It pissed him off. Not only that people would interfere with each others class work in general, but theirs specifically. It wasn't like they were competition-- combined they had less power than the weakest witch who had gotten a letter of invitation. Potions went okay since it was more about precision than power, but even then, even their most perfect potions would be comparatively weak. And in the other classes, it was even worse.

"But what happened?" Wally asked.

"Someone tried to blow up the cauldron. It didn't work," he muttered under his breath. "Shut up," he added, realizing that Snape was almost with range of hearing.

"But what did they do?"

"Yes, Mr. Milner. What _did_ they do?" a cool silky voice demanded.

He bit back an oath and turned to face the professor. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

"When you rose so abruptly earlier. What was the occasion? Another sabotage attempt, I presume?"

As though he didn't know everything that happened in his lab. "Yes, sir."

"And do you know who perpetrated this infamous act?"

"No, sir," he said shortly. Even if they had magic and he did not, he wasn't about to go taking his problems to professors. He'd been handling people with impossible advantages over him for years.

Black eyes flashed with an emotion he couldn't read. Respect or irritation, maybe. Strange how alike the two looked on Snape's face. Snape was the only one of the professors who had not once so much as hinted that he'd prefer to have the mask off. He also never seemed the least bit disconcerted by it. "What was used?"

"Fireberries, sir."

Black eyes narrowed on him. "Number?"

"Three."

"And you managed not to break their skins? That's an impressive feat."

Robin didn't respond. It hadn't been a question and he didn't have an answer. He'd failed in the feat, as he'd failed at everything lately, so he wasn't about to accept the compliment. But he'd prefer not to admit to the failure either.

Snape studied him for a long moment, then tested their potion. "Adequate," he said, and moved on to the rest.

Wally gave a quiet whoop beside him. "Adequate! We rock!"

Ignoring him, Robin focused on the pain in his hand until Snape said, "Dismissed."

He started to gather his things and paused at a soft, "Mr. Milner, stay, if you will." Reluctantly, he sat back down and waited, ignoring the pat on his shoulder and Wally's cheerful mutter of, "Eew, sucks. Catch ya when you escape."

When they all had filtered out and the door closed behind them, Snape's gaze fell on him. "Come."

Biting back his anger at being ordered about like a pet, he rose and approached Snape's table.

"Your hand."

He started to offer his left hand, and Snape interjected sharply, "Be so kind as to not treat me as a fool, Mr. Milner--"

"That is _not_ my name," he stated, since Snape was among those who knew it. "Sir."

"No it is not, but you are answering to it because having your actual identity revealed could bring nothing good to the school or the students within, and therefore you _will_ get used to answering to it, even in private. Mr. Milner." He waited a moment, then nodded, satisfied at the lack of response. "Your _hand_, Mr. Milner."

He lifted it, and his wrist as taken by Snape and the hand turned palm up with surprisingly gentle hands.

"Only one berry broke," Snape said. "Still an impressive feat."

Robin glared at him. "Less so."

"Yes," he agreed. "But still impressive. I must forbid you to beat up Draco, by the way. I do not doubt that you could, presuming nobody interfered with a hex you weren't expecting, but there can be no physical fights at Hogwarts."

Robin didn't answer.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Your petty little revenge for a burnt hand and an attempted sabotage are not what is important here, Mr. Milner. We are at war. Draco is a key player and _must_ keep his position unchallenged. If _any_ word gets back to his father that he is anything other than he appears, his cover could be broken. And if word got back that he was bested by a near-squib-- it wouldn't matter that his cover was not broken, because _he_ would be broken at the dark lord's hand. You will _not_ risk his life for your revenge."

The two stared at each other for a long moment, then Robin's head jerked in an angry nod.

"Thank you," Snape said, and Robin was surprised to see that he actually did seem relieved.

Relieved as though there had been some doubt of Robin's decisions after the situation was explained. They had, after much discussion, decided to trust Robin and Wally enough to give them details of the war effort, primarily because they did their homework and found out who and what the two were, how unlikely they'd be to betray them, and how useful they might be if it came to battle. That Snape could still think that he would put something as minor as a burn in front of someone's life infuriated Robin. Almost as much as their insistence that he practice useless skills as a bad cover-- because everyone must realize that the school wouldn't actually accept students as weak as they were. The whole thing was an exercise in frustration.

He jerked his hand away, turned on his heel, and stalked back towards his desk.

"Mr. Milner."

He paused but didn't turn back.

"I've a potion for the burn."

Not responding, he gathered his things and left the room.


	4. Meeting

The hexes had come from every side at once. Enough that people from every house had to be in on it, binding after binding landing so thick he not only couldn't move, he couldn't even breathe. And then another spell tore away his mask. He felt them staring at him, even the ones who hadn't participated moving so they could see his face, look at his eyes, and he wished he could scream or struggle but he couldn't even breathe. Rushing filled his ears and his vision began to darken around the edges, and then the bindings released and he collapsed to his knees, unable to hold himself up, heaving, and barely managing to stop before actually puking, eyes clenched closed, gasping for breath.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he jerked away. He managed to get to his feet, turned, and walked out without looking around. His head was pounding and it was hard to walk in a straight line, but he moved away, desperate to get away from here.

Angrily, he blinked back tears that he was _not_ going to let fall, even if they were just from nearly asphyxiating. No way. No way in hell was he going to cry about this. He turned reached the stairs and swore as he found them having just turned away-- no knowing when they'd be back, and he wasn't about to stand around waiting for them. He turned and went down the hall towards the next staircase, then heard footsteps behind him and turned into the first room he came to, not caring where he was as long as he didn't have to face anyone.

"What are _you_ doing here?" The high-pitched voice was a girl's whine, and he blinked to clear his mysteriously foggy eyes and gasped in horror when he realized he was in a girl's bathroom.

"Oh god," he muttered. "Could this day _get_ any worse?"

"Oh _that's_ a nice thing to say," the girl complained. "Of course seeing me would ruin _anyone's_ day, is that it? You just can't imagine anything worse happening? Is this just because I'm _dead_?"

He turned to face the voice and recoiled slightly at the ghost. He had seen ghosts around, of course; Peeves seemed to be making a career of tormenting him. Every time it still took him a moment to accept the reality of it. "I'm sorry--" he said, and winced as he heard his voice crack. "I didn't mean--"

The girl's anger and hurt softened and she floated closer, putting out her hands as if to comfort him. "Of course you didn't," she said, the whine gone from her tone, leaving it surprisingly pleasant. "Are you okay?"

Was it his imagination, or did she have some color to her rather than the pure white and silver of the other ghosts? There seemed to be a hint of reddish-brown to her hair, and her eyes were undoubtedly green, he couldn't be imagining that! Her hands extended towards him and he shivered, not at a rush of cold like the other ghosts gave him when they swooped through, because she wasn't cold. She was warm, nod hot, but comfortingly warm and he could even almost feel her. The shiver was from something else, a feeling he couldn't name, but that was so intense he forgot his misery and just stared at her, mouth gaping slightly.

"Oh," she murmured, sounding surprised. "That was ... different."

Before he could answer, the door slammed open and Wally moved in at a speed that would be a rush for anyone but him, saying, "Robin? Are you here? Are you--"

His voice cut off as he bumped into Robin, and they both stumbled forward, through the ghost, who let out a cry of ... pain? Concerned, Robin turned to her, reaching out to catch her arm-- and caught it. It was there. Physical. He focused on her, and for the second time in the day, he stopped breathing. She was taller than him, but not by much, with dark auburn hair, the red almost more highlight than actual color, and the most amazing light green eyes he'd ever seen. She had pale skin with a few freckles and high cheekbones and thin, shapely brows currently drawn together slightly in surprise as she stared back and forth between them.

Finally, she smiled at him, and he felt his heart follow his lungs' example and freeze in place. "Breathe," she suggested softly.

Unable to do anything but obey, he drew in a ragged breath.

"I-- things are-- a little hazy," she said. "I-- What year is it?"

"1996," Wally said quickly, before Robin could catch his breath enough to speak. "I'm Wally," he added. "And you are unbelievably beautiful."

Robin flinched as the smile was redirected at the taller boy, leaving him feeling cold.

"Fifty-three years," she murmured. "I'm glad I didn't wait." Then she smiled at both of them again and said, "I'm Myrtle. It's very good to see you at last, Wally and...?" she turned her full attention back to Robin, brows rising inquisitively.

"Robin," he said. "Can I-- Is there anything I can do for you?"

She smiled happily. "It's kind of a long story, actually. Shall we go somewhere private to talk?"

"Yes!" Robin agreed fervently.

Wally said, "Anywhere you lead, Myrtle."

Shooting his team member an irritated glance and resisting the almost overwhelming urge to childishly push him aside and say, 'I saw her first!', Robin turned his full attention back to Myrtle who ushered them out of the bathroom and into the hall. She glanced quickly up and down it, and then went over to a portrait of a young man on a broom, who looked at her, away, and then back in a classic double take, then grinned broadly. "Myrtle! Welcome back!"

"Thank you, Darren," she said, dimpling, and Robin fought back the irrational surge of jealousy. Tried to fight back, actually. Though seeing Wally beside him bristling at the painting was amusing-- except that it meant that Wally was feeling what Robin did. To a lesser degree, of course, since there was no _way_ Wally could have feelings as strong as his own, but still it was worrisome, because girls _liked_ Wally. That carelessness and irresponsibility that should have driven them away drew them instead. "Could you let us in and not tell anyone where we are? I'd _really_ appreciate it."

"Anything for you, Myrtle, you know that," he said, and the portrait opened. "Headmaster know yet?"

"The spell will be fading over the next few hours, but I don't think he knows yet. You remember everything?"

He looked mildly offended. "I promised I'd keep it all!"

Smiling again, she reached out and touched his painted cheek. "I know, Darren, and I appreciate it. I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

"You sure these two are okay?"

"You know the spell, Darren. I wouldn't have come back if they weren't."

"Well, yeah, but I wasn't expecting two."

Myrtle smiled happily as she waved Robin and Wally through the portrait hole into the room. "I was. Thanks, Darren-- I'll talk to you more later on, okay?"

"Any time," he agreed, closing behind her and leaving the three of them in a small, comfortable living room.

"So," Myrtle said, looking at them. "You probably want to know what's going on."


	5. US?

"So you cast a spell to make everything think you'd been killed by the basilisk you'd banished?"

"Yup."

"And they thought that you were ugly and annoying and unpopular...?" he asked doubtingly.

"If they knew remembered who I really was, there would have been too much investigation," she explained. "It was convenient, actually, that there were two basilisks, it gave a very convenient way for me to 'die' without my having to try to capture and release the basilisk rather than simply destroying it. That would have been challenging, and the memory spell was already rather draining."

"But I don't understand," Wally said, brows drawn together in confusion. "Why was it so important that you ... die?" he asked, forcing out the last word as though saying it might make it real.

She frowned, and Robin leaned forward slightly, eager to hear what was wrong so he could find some way to fix it.

Then she laughed. "Actually it was your fault," she said, looking back and forth between them. "I was being forced to marry, you see."

Wally and Robin exchanged a look. "But--"

"To a Malfoy. They were trying to move up in the world, you see--"

"Aren't the Malfoys one of the top families in the wizarding world?" Wally interrupted, surprised.

"Well yeah, now they are. But when you consider that my family died out, the Pariches, the Laudets-- Malfoys aren't far behind of course," she added, sounding rather pleased at the prospect. "All the old blood families intermarry too much and it's killing them off. I didn't wish to fall into that trap, but that Malfoy woman had something on my father and he was letting her bully him into making me marry her son."

Robin's eyes narrowed at the thought of anyone forcing Myrtle to marry someone she didn't want. "So you--"

"Cast a spell to make me effectively a ghost until my true loves arrived," she explained cheerfully. "Just as well, too, if you were going to be born forty-some years late," she added disapprovingly.

"I'm sorry," Robin said before realizing how ridiculous it was to apologize for when he was born. And yet he _was_ sorry, if it had caused Myrtle any trouble at all. But all he could really think of was that she'd been waiting for him. That this magnificent girl had been waiting for _him_.

"So-- all this time, you've been waiting for _me_?" Wally breathed.

Robin turned to glare at him, then froze, feeling like he'd been sucker punched at Myrtle's soft, "Yes."

And god it hurt more than anything ever had. Hurt more than when he'd thrown himself against walls when he'd been poisoned into believing Slade was fighting him. Hurt worse than disappointing Bruce. Hurt more than-- His clenched his eyes and tried to breathe, but it had never been so hard before and--

"Robin?"

The concerned voice broke through the rushing in his ears, and he forced his face still, his breathing even, his eyes open. "I should-- I should go," he finally said. "You guys-- you must have a lot to talk about."

Myrtle was staring at him in confusion, Wally in a mixture of guilt and joy that he couldn't even blame him for-- although that didn't stop him from hating him for it. She'd been waiting for _him_. For Wally. Not for Robin. Never for Robin.

But it was his face she was touching, her hand warm and soft, and then her lips were on his and he just wanted to die because everything else could only be a disappointment after this. And when she pulled back he had to choke back tears, though he couldn't look away from him.

"English is a stupid language," she stated.

He blinked. "Huh?"

"I've been waiting for _you_," she said, looking back and forth between them. "Plural."

"But-- Your one true love--"

"I said true loves. Not one. Two. I always knew it would be two."

Robin and Wally exchanged a look, beyond confused, and she offered a wry grin.

"It's a thing. Some say perverted, but I prefer unconventional, and it's rather common in my family. I have to admit to the concept of having sex with a man rather boring. The idea of two men together, on the other hand..." Her voice trailed off, and her eyes grew just a bit hazy. Robin's jaw dropped and he couldn't move.

He shot a panicked glance at Wally who was looking almost as startled as he felt. "But--" he finally managed. "But I couldn't-- I can't-- _Us_?"

Her eyes refocused on him, huge and gorgeous and soulful. "Can't you?"

"No!" He shot another look at Wally, and saw that the taller boy was now somewhere between amused and horrified and speculative, and repeated, "No!"

Myrtle frowned unhappily, and Robin took a step forward, reaching out to comfort her, flinching as she pulled away.

"Myrtle, I'm sorry-- I'm just can't-- I'm not gay."

"Couldn't you be a _little_ bit gay?" she pleaded, eyes wide as she looked hopefully up at him with that expression that was so hard to resist. "For me?"

"Please? Just a kiss? I don't want to have to choose, Robin. And-- And I'd have to choose the person who could make me happy. And-- And I've told you what would make me happiest..."

He turned an uncertain glance at Wally, who was looking smugly superior, confident of having won. "But I can't--"

She turned her big green eyes to Wally. "Could you...?"

"For you?" he asked gallantly. "Anything."

And Robin's heart broke as she smiled and stepped towards Wally, kissing him like she had Robin earlier.


	6. Perfect

**Chapter Six: Perfect**

He fell back a step, aching like he'd been kicked in the stomach by Cinderblock as he realized the truth. She wasn't bluffing. Or, if she was, he never wanted to play cards with her. Paralyzed, he watched as Wally pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Watched as she rose up on her toes, arms on his shoulders. Watched as--

Breaking the paralysis, he stalked forward, moved behind Wally, put a hand on his shoulder, and jerked him around, ignoring the taller boy's wordless mutter of complaint and the way his eyes opened and blinked hazily. Keeping his eyes locked on Myrtle, he reached up his spare hand to wrap it in Wally's hair and jerk his face down to his own. He was faintly surprised at how soft Wally's lips were, and he caught a flash of startled blue eyes flashing fully open, but he kept his own firmly on Myrtle, opening his mouth and lightly tonguing the seal of Wally's lips as her eyes widened and her breath quickened.

Wally stiffened and pulled back slightly, staring at him, and Robin raised his brows, eyes still on Myrtle. "Who's not cooperating?" he asked ironically.

Then his eyes were forced to Wally in shock as hands cupped his jaw and Wally bent over him, pushing him back against the wall, eyes on his, demanding that he return the gaze as their mouths met again, and this time Wally's parted immediately, tongue flickering out to meet his and then invading his mouth, except it didn't feel like an invasion, not when it tasted faintly of mint and chocolate, not when it made his eyes flutter halfway closed and heat to build in his face and then flash down to his groin as Wally pushed him harder against the wall, thigh pressing between his legs. He raised his knee, pressing his own thigh against Wally, and felt an answering hardness against it as Wally whimpered into his mouth and ground against him.

He smiled, pleased at having made the other boy lose control as Wally's hands clutched at his back. Wally never seemed to lose control. It was one of the things about him that infuriated Robin-- he never did anything worth while, but he always seemed in complete control while doing it. Never surprised. Never worried. Never scared or helpless or anything else. He held that calm so easily. But now he was anything but calm as he scrabbled at Robin's robes with suddenly clumsy fingers, mouth moving almost desperately against Robin's. And then Wally seemed to recall that Robin was wearing robes and the hand moved to the front, to the line of buttons, and open one, letting his hand slip inside and back, again moving to the shirt he wore underneath, and this time succeeding in untucking it and sliding up the skin of Robin's back, his hand unbelievably hot as the other continued fumbling with the buttons.

And the sudden heat was enough to shock Robin into remembering that this was _not_ how he wanted Wally to lose control. He jerked to the side, away from Wally, who whispered a pleading protest, and turned his eyes to Myrtle, who was watching them with a flushed face and eager eyes, mouth slightly open.

"A kiss, you wanted," he stated.

She licked her lips and nodded. "A fine beginning," she agreed.

"Beginn--" he started, horrified, but cut off as she moved forward until she was standing with one side against each of them, eyes one arm around each, pulling until they stood in a close huddle. Then she turned to Robin and kissed him, the faintly strawberry flavor of her mixing with Wally's chocolate and mint without overpowering it, the two mingling in his mouth, and yet somehow he couldn't resent the aftertaste interfering with the new, because it was so unbearably perfect that both his arms clenched, pulling both bodies closer to his own, and when her mouth left and turned to Wally's it felt somehow perfectly natural for his own to drop to suck at the skin of Wally's neck, just under the jawbone where he could feel the fast beat of Wally's pulse against his tongue and he bit just hard enough to hurt a little, and felt Wally's body lurch and suddenly the redhead was moving to dislodge him and recapture Robin's mouth with his own, and another mouth turned to his ear, sucking lightly on his lobe, and it was his turn to whimper as teeth nibbled with a pain so slight it only increased the pleasure. His fingers twined with Myrtle's behind Wally's neck, with Wally's at the small of Myrtle's back, and he sagged against the two, feeling them do the same to him, as their movements grew less desperate and more languid until they were simply standing, each held up by the other two. Robin's forehead was resting on Wally's shoulder, whose chin was on Myrtle's head, whose cheek was on Robin's shoulder, lips lightly resting on his neck. He didn't know how long they stood like that. Just that it felt... perfect.


End file.
